


Passion

by KitiaraM



Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:44:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitiaraM/pseuds/KitiaraM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keriana gets very frustrated with Captain Quinn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passion

"My lord, I have an, ah, issue, I would like to discuss with you. If you have a moment."

Keriana turned to face her XO, lifting a curious eyebrow. He sounded far more diffident than usual. "Yes, Quinn?" She leaned back on the console, crossing her arms. She knew her casual attitude drove him crazy; it was the main reason she did it. Pushing his buttons had become somewhat of a game. 

This time, however, he ignored her lack of 'proper deportment'. With the air of a man confronting an unwilling duty, he stared at the air a few inches to the right of her head. She was getting rather tired of that. Her irritation almost made her miss his next words. Almost.

"My lord, you've caused me some difficulty, and I'd like to confirm that it was unintended. Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but some time ago it seems you expressed an interest in me beyond our professional relationship." His eyes might have flicked to hers once, but only briefly, before returning to that invisible spot as he awaited her reply. 

She didn't try to stop the wry grin. "It's called flirting, Quinn. You should look into it. Might help you loosen up a bit." She abandoned her casual pose, dropping her arms and stepping closer to him, invading his personal space. Did his breath seem to come a bit quicker? "The more interesting question," she purred, "is why it's causing you difficulty."

He swallowed, ignoring her closeness as he kept his eyes fixed straight ahead. "I, ah, admit you have a definite knack for… surprising me." She chuckled throatily and he twitched before continuing hastily. "I'm typically swifter on my toes. I should have immediately said that any personal involvement between us could cloud judgment and compromise your campaigns." She could almost feel his relief at getting the words out without stumbling over them.

"Do I cloud your judgment, Quinn? Or do you think you could cloud mine?" She circled him slowly as she spoke, and stopped when she intersected his gaze, catching his eyes with hers. He couldn't seem to look away as she leaned closer. 

"Why don't you kiss me and find out?" Her lips quirked. "Or should I make it an order?" She was standing very close to him now, so close she could smell the faint scent of soap—no cologne for the oh-so-perfect Imperial officer.

"My lord…" It wasn't quite a protest. Emotions flickered across his face, almost too quickly to make out. Confusion, longing, indecision; but before she could react, a kind of fatalistic resignation came over him. "Yes, my lord." Having made his decision, like a good officer he immediately put it into action. 

His lips were cool, his posture stiff and correct even now, and she couldn't help but compare it to the heat Pierce had shown her. She started to pull back, to tell this stuffed-shirt, prim and too-proper martinet—

Quinn made an odd sound, somewhere between a gasp and a moan, and suddenly she was crushed against him, his lips no longer cool and distant but burningly intent on wringing everything possible from hers. One hand buried itself in her hair, pulling it from its moorings with careless abandon, and she felt heat stirring inside her. Responding to his unexpected passion, she dug her fingers into his tunic, melding herself even tighter against him. Coherent thought was washed away.

Lost in her own fervor, she was taken by surprise when he suddenly released her and stepped back. She blinked, disoriented and breathless as he stared at her with an almost horrified expression. Then he seemed to realize his hands still clutched at her shoulders and snatched them away as if burned.

"My lord, this is, I…" He faltered and she raised an eyebrow even as she recovered herself. Ignoring her mussed hair, she quelled the fire inside. What _was_ the man's problem? Did he fear any appearance of lack of control? Did he not realize the tighter you tried to hold on, the more brittle it became? True control came only from accepting, not denying your passion.

He seemed to summon some inner strength and drew himself up straight, visibly drawing his normal reserve around him like a shield. "My lord, I, I am drawn to you, make no mistake, but this should not continue. It's not proper—"

"Bother proper!" she snapped, anger surging up. She'd finally broken through his defenses, forced him to show feelings he hid so deeply behind the mask of the perfect Imperial officer, and now he—she snarled to herself. She would not let him affect her so. But he'd made a mistake: now she knew the passion he kept so rigorously hidden. She wouldn't forget.

She laughed shortly, resuming her relaxed position. "I like keeping you uncomfortable, Quinn," she said lightly. "Keeps you on edge. Sharp."

Quinn seemed nearly back to his normal, rigid self. "You have a talent for it, my lord," he replied drily. He hesitated. "If I may withdraw?"

She made him wait for a long moment before replying. "Dismissed, Captain."

He nodded the precisely correct amount, wheeled a precise quarter-turn, and fled.


End file.
